


Serendipity

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-16
Updated: 2008-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Ann is picky; it's that most boys are kind of stupid, and just don't get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> Future-fic, for readerofasaph, who pinned my Sekrit Subrosa Identity pretty durn fast. To the prompt "Yuuta/Ann, university."

The problem with most boys was that they just didn't get it. Oh, sure, they liked that Ann worked out all the time. Plenty of them had admired her legs and her figure, at length even, and Shinichirou, from her sensitive-boy phase, had actually written poetry dedicated to her body. (She still had it somewhere; it was _awful_, but still. A poem, for her! That was pretty awesome.)

What they invariably didn't understand was that she trained so vigorously for a reason, and that reason was tennis. It wasn't, as Yousuke had put it, just a silly hobby. (She'd dumped Yousuke pretty fast, the patronizing jerk.) It wasn't because she wanted to look good, either, although that was a nice side-benefit. It was because tennis was Ann's passion, and the rest--including boyfriends--was just details.

It didn't make it any better that the handful of times she'd tried to date other tennis players, it hadn't gone very smoothly. Akira had been more in love with her brother than her. Kenji hadn't been able to deal with the fact that she could beat him four sets out of five. And Kazuki had been _so_ tennis-obsessed that he'd broken up with her for distracting him from his training.

Boys just didn't get it. Girls weren't any better, the handful of times she'd tried. Most seemed to expect her to change after they'd gotten together, and when she'd stayed the same (bouncy, energetic, tennis-obsessed, and prone to scheduling dates around matches) they got upset.

Ann was starting to believe that she was doomed to being single forever, with only a box of miscellaneous toys to keep her company, when fate conspired to prove her wrong.

It was the first day of the new term, and her alarm hadn't gone off, which had meant a panicky rush around her apartment as she threw on her clothes and scraped her hair into a messy ponytail, cursing at herself for missing morning practice all the while. She missed her normal bus (of course) and as she anxiously checked the time, it was clear that the only way to make it to class on time was going to be on her own two feet.

So she slung her bag across her shoulder, messenger-style, and took off, pelting down the sidewalk at a steady trot, ducking and weaving through the crowds of pedestrians. It wasn't a bad run to campus, actually; had she not been running late, Ann would have enjoyed it. As it was, she decided that maybe she'd have to incorporate the run into her regular schedule as she fell into the half-mindless rhythm of it, feet striking the pavement steadily, bag jouncing at her hip.

As she turned onto the main sidewalk of the university's campus, she fell in with another runner, a guy, going the same way she was. Ann half-expected him to outpace her, or to outpace him, but they fell in stride without her quite realizing it. That was pretty nice, because with the two of them running abreast, the pedestrians got out of _their_ way.

What was more, he was going her direction, towards the science building. He got to the doors first--longer arms, longer reach--and held it for her, but they reached the lobby together. Ann took one look at the freshmen milling around in front of the building's single elevator, and turned to him. "Stairs?"

"Stairs," he agreed, and they took off together, clattering up the flights together, side-by-side, and if it weren't for the fact that her calves were burning and she needed all her breath, Ann would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

She got the door on the third floor, and wasn't all that surprised when he turned in with her. "Biochem with Tsuda-sensei?" she gasped, as they skidded down the hall.

"Yeah," he grunted, as they fetched up in front of 313, and spilled into the classroom. The professor wasn't there yet, three minutes before class was due to start. "Hah! Made it."

There were a couple of seats open in the back of the room; Ann collapsed into one, breathless, and he took the other. "I hate oversleeping," she said, sucking in deep lungfuls of air as the rest of the class pretended not to stare at them.

"Me too," he said, and offered her his hand. "Fuji Yuuta. Awesome running."

She knew that name from somewhere, didn't she...? "You too," she said, and shook his hand. "Tachibana Ann."

"Oh," he said, eyes going bright. "You're the women's singles ace."

_That_ was where she knew the name. "And you're the men's singles ace," she returned, and laughed.

He laughed, too, because it _was_ a funny coincidence. "Nice to finally meet you," he said, as they shook hands. "Study partners?"

Ann considered the curve of his smile and the clarity of his eyes, and the strip of calluses on his palm that matched hers. "Sure," she said, as the professor came in, because nothing ventured, nothing gained. "You up for tennis, too?"

"Always," he grinned, and the rest, as they say, was history.

**end**


End file.
